Magic Hands
by the ramblin rose
Summary: Richonne, Oneshot. Rick proves to Michonne, despite her skepticism, that he really does have magic hands. And Michonne proves that she's got some magic hands of her own. Rated for suggestion.


**AN: This is just a light little oneshot set in Alexandria (void of any problems). It was prompted by an anon on Tumblr who wanted Rick giving Michonne a massage. It's just for entertainment value and not meant to be taken too seriously.**

 **I own nothing from the Walking Dead.**

 **I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**

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"Just relax," Rick said again. It was probably the tenth or eleventh time that Michonne had heard him make the command in the past half hour since they'd retired to the bedroom together.

Michonne laughed to herself and lifted her head once more to change its position on the pillow and search out a more comfortable way to lie so that she was neither suffocating nor suffering from a crick in her neck that even Rick's self-proclaimed magic hands wouldn't be able to work out.

"I thought that was your job," Michonne said. "To make me relax. If I've got to do it myself..."

"You wanna quit busting my balls, Michonne?" Rick asked. He couldn't sound half as irritated as he was trying to sound. All of his attempts to sound annoyed with her were simply stirring up more amusement. "I'm going to relax you, but it's going to help if you're cooperating."

Michonne sighed and sunk down into the mattress.

"I think it's only fair to tell you that I'm immune to massages," Michonne said.

Rick squeezed her neck and Michonne tensed, the same way she had before he'd insisted she relax again, and pinched his fingers between her neck and shoulders to still his movements. He moved his hands again, practically prying his fingers free from the hold that her neck and shoulders had on them, and the mattress shifted as he sat back.

"Nobody is immune to massages," Rick said. "You might be stubborn, but you're not immune."

"I am," Michonne insisted. "And I'm going to tell you this but...if you use it against me? I'll never forgive you." She tried to set her expression to be as stern as she could possibly make it. "Ever," she added, hardening her tone.

Rick tried to stifle the laugh that came out suddenly and it ended up escaping him in a snort.

"Are you going to tell me you're part Walker or something?" Rick asked. "Maybe—like a vampire...and that makes you immune to massages instead of garlic?"

"Vampires aren't immune to garlic," Michonne said, pushing herself up to rest on her elbows. "Garlic kills them. Or burns them. I don't know for sure. And I'm not a vampire, or a Walker, or even a werewolf...but I am immune to massages."

Rick nodded his head at her and Michonne rolled her eyes at the amusement that he couldn't keep off of his features.

"Fine," Michonne said, dropping back down to the pillow and turning her face in the opposite direction. "I'm not telling you anything."

"No," Rick said. "No...I want to hear this. I want to know. I want to know—everything about you. So if you're immune to massages? I want to know that too."

Michonne lifted up again to flop back in Rick's direction.

"I'm ticklish," Michonne said.

Rick raised his eyebrows at her.

"Ticklish?" He asked.

Michonne nodded her head against the pillow.

"I think I would've known by now if you were ticklish," Rick pointed out.

"Except you wouldn't," Michonne said. "Because I'm not ticklish everywhere. And—if you were paying attention, actually? I think you would know that I'm ticklish. You've found a couple of my _spots_ before."

Rick's face burned a little red and he couldn't bite back the smile that crept across his lips.

"I think I've found a lot of your _spots_ before," Rick said. "Or else you're a pretty good actress."

Michonne gave him the best disapproving look that she could.

"My ticklish spots," she clarified. "The places I can barely stand to be touched."

Rick hummed and nodded his head.

"The insides of your thighs," Rick said. "It's funny, but...you always try to run away."

Michonne felt her own cheeks grow warm, but she nodded her head and sat back up again on her elbows.

"I'm not trying to run away," she said. "But I don't feel like I can avoid it. A certain kind of touch and—my body just tries to escape."

"Or you close your legs on my head like a vice," Rick said.

Michonne sucked in her lip to swallow down her own embarrassment. She smiled at him.

"I told you I was sorry about that," Michonne said.

"And I forgive you," Rick said. "I've never had my ears boxed by anyone's thighs before. It was a...learning experience. OK. OK. You're ticklish. Where else?"

"My sides," Michonne said. "My stomach. The bottoms of my feet. My arms, right below my armpits. And...my neck. Right there. Right where you keep squeezing. Right where every single massage is supposed to get its start. But I'm immune to them because—the fun's over before it even begins. I can't relax if the only thing I can do is think I hope you stop squeezing there soon so I can breathe again."

Rick nodded his head.

"OK," he said.

"OK?" Michonne asked.

"OK," Rick repeated. "We won't start there. We won't even go there. You could've just told me that fifteen minutes ago instead of making me torture you for the last fifteen minutes by trying to make you relax in a position where you couldn't possibly relax."

"I thought you'd make fun of me," Michonne said. "Most people can't wait to find out you're ticklish to use it against you."

"I'm not most people," Rick said. "I don't want to use anything against you. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. That's the exact opposite of why I asked you to let me do this. And I've got enough skill that—I think I can work around it."

Michonne laughed to herself and nodded her acceptance.

"OK, then," she said. "Impress me with your skills."

Rick pointed toward the pillow and commanded Michonne to lie back down, once again, and she found a spot where she was comfortable. Instead of returning to squeeze at the junction of her neck and shoulders—a place where he'd hopefully already learned such an action would only result in the trapping of his fingers—he moved his fingers farther over to her shoulders and put a little pressure there with his thumbs on her shoulder blades.

"Ticklish here?" Rick asked, squeezing gently.

"No," Michonne said.

"You want to breathe?" Rick teased. "That might help you relax. At least a little."

Michonne let out the breath that she hadn't been intentionally holding.

Carefully, and avoiding the areas she'd identified as "danger zones" for herself, Rick started his massage. His touch, at first, was light. It was just the sensation of his hands rubbing over her skin. It was comforting and soothing—like any touch that she enjoyed from him. There was a light scratch that accompanied it, coming directly from the calluses that he'd built up over all the time they spent doing tasks that weren't compatible with baby soft hands.

Michonne closed her eyes and felt herself genuinely start to relax into the bed.

"OK?" Rick asked quietly.

Michonne hummed back her approval, not wanting to disturb herself with the effort that it would take to respond to him.

In response, Rick put a little more pressure behind his touch. Having found a trail for himself that avoided any problem areas, he followed it. He traced it several times, from one end of Michonne's body to the other, careful to steer clear from any area that would disturb her. And Michonne relaxed more because she realized that he wasn't going to trick her. He wasn't going to lull her into a false sense of security and then get his amusement by catching her off-guard and grabbing one of the areas that she'd identified as "undesirable". He genuinely wanted her to relax, and his interest was only in doing what pleased her.

It wasn't long before Michonne felt herself slipping into the dreamlike state where her mind felt separate from her body. Her mind felt like it was swimming or floating. It was suspended just before sleep and just beyond waking. It might have tipped over the side, fully into sleep, but she was brought back into consciousness by Rick's words which started off as distant and grew closer as she eased back into the waking realm.

"Are you still with me?" Rick asked.

Michonne hummed and accepted her fate of being awake. Rick had stopped rubbing her, but he left behind an almost numbing relaxation everywhere his hands had touched. Her skin tingled from the sensation.

"Barely," Michonne said. "I wouldn't have been if you'd kept going."

Rick laughed quietly.

"You want me to start again?" He asked.

Michonne moved enough to pat the bed beside her.

"No," she said. "I'm fine. I want you to lie down with me."

Rick did lie down, following her request, and smiled at her when his face was lined up with hers. A new sensation replaced the relaxed feeling that was left over from the massage when Rick reached his hand up to trail his fingers lightly on her back.

"You don't seem so immune to massages after all," Rick said.

Michonne smiled at him.

"Maybe it was those magic hands," she said.

"Maybe it was you telling me the truth," Rick said. "Giving me—a fighting chance."

"I still think it was the hands," Michonne said. "But—I'll let you try again any time you want. Just to test the theory."

Rick laughed.

"How very generous of you," he said.

"I have a very generous spirit," Michonne said.

Rick laughed again and stopped trailing his fingers over her back. He lifted himself and rolled over so that he was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. The lamp on his side of the bed was the only thing that kept the room from being dark and Michonne was certain there was nothing to see on the ceiling—but he stared at it like it was at least somewhat interesting.

"I appreciate you not taking advantage of my... _vulnerability_ ," Michonne said.

Rick rolled his head back in her direction.

"Your what?" Rick asked.

"Telling you I'm ticklish," Michonne said. "You could've taken advantage of that for your amusement. I'm glad you didn't." She sighed. "I've always considered tickling a form of torture. And the worst kind. It makes you laugh, but it's laughter that—you don't get any joy from. It's this horrible state of being trapped somewhere between something it seems like you should be enjoying and something that's absolutely horrible. I never believed in tickling kids."

Rick hummed.

"Now that you explain it like that," Rick said, "I don't think I ever will again either. I used to tickle Carl all the time. Hold him down and—tickle him until he was laughing so hard he could hardly breathe."

"Torture," Michonne said. "Well-intentioned, but torture nonetheless."

Rick laughed.

"Don't hold back," he teased. "Give it to me straight."

He rolled on his side again to face Michonne and reached a hand out to touch her. He trailed his fingers, this time, against her cheek and brought them down under her chin. She flinched a little, a natural reaction to such a touch following a discussion of tickling, and the corner of Rick's mouth curled upwards.

"Ticklish there too?" He asked.

"Not really," Michonne said.

Rick's expression changed, suddenly, and he forced his face to be as serious as he could possibly make it at the moment.

"You have my promise that—I'll never tickle you," Rick said. "Not unless—you specifically ask me to."

Michonne smiled at him. She couldn't help it.

"Thank you," she said, as sincerely as he'd offered his promise. "I promise not to ever torture you either. Not purposefully."

"How very big of you," Rick teased. "You're feeling very generous tonight. But you did like the massage?"

Michonne nodded her head against the pillow.

"It's something I'd definitely let you repeat," Michonne said. "I thought you were all talk about your magic hands but...once again, you've proved to me that you can back up your bragging."

"It's not bragging if it's true," Rick said, rolling back to his back and lifting his head to put his hands behind it.

Michonne licked her lips and trailed her hand over the soft skin of Rick's belly as she made her way toward the elastic band of his boxer shorts. She felt the muscles there jump beneath her fingertips.

"You're ticklish too," she offered.

"But I like the torture," Rick responded.

"Close your eyes," Michonne said, pushing herself back up onto her elbow and breaking entirely, this time, the spell that the massage had held over her. "You relax." Rick hummed in question, but he did what she said. He closed his eyes, sucked in a breath, and let it out again purposefully. She waited for him to relax before she let her fingers continue their journey. Michonne smiled to herself. "You were right about one thing. I am feeling pretty generous tonight and...you're not the only one around here with magic hands," she teased.


End file.
